


Cold

by orphan_account



Series: Autumn Leaves [1]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: College AU, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-26
Updated: 2015-05-26
Packaged: 2018-04-01 07:48:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4011667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Simmons seems to forget that he owns, like, a billion sweaters</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cold

Simmons loved the fall. It was, in his opinion, the best of the four seasons. With the way leaves always crunched beneath his feet, and the smell of cinnamon filled the air, and how hot cocoa was starting to make an appearance. Everything about it was beautiful. But perhaps his favorite thing about autumn was the chilly air and cool winds. The temperature was just brisk enough that he was able to wear long sleeves.

But for some reason, he always seemed to forget to put a sweatshirt on before leaving his dorm room. He would go out in just a short-sleeved shirt, despite the fact that he owned several sweaters and what could be argued to be too many sweatshirts for one man. As he walked with Grif to classes or around the lake - much to the Hawaiian's protest - Simmons would inch closer to him, seeking warmth, until Grif was asking if he wanted to stop into the college campus's coffee shop for some hot chocolate. They usually ended up sharing a cup in the library, where the heat was always on full blast.

As fall dragged on, and the temperature continued to drop, Grif started to remind him that he should grab a sweater. Simmons, apparently, forgot how his ears worked, because he hardly ever brought one with him when he went out. Normally, Grif wouldn't care, except he knew how quickly Simmons got cold, and knew how much he didn't like it. But the oddest thing was, every other time of year, Simmons was always bundled in his favorite maroon hoodie, as a way of covering up his prosthetic arm. Never, though, in autumn. It was madness.

And then, Grif finally figured it out. They were heading to lunch one Saturday, after Simmons was finished with his study group. Grif grabbed his own orange sweatshirt before reminding his roommate that it was chilly out.

"You'll probably want a sweater or something," he said.

"Yeah, just a sec," Simmons replied, rummaging through a drawer to find the little cloth he used to clean his glasses, because apparently, they were starting to get filthy, and it was annoying.

Grif zipped up his sweatshirt and waited by the door, too wrapped up in texting Tucker to notice that, when Simmons started to pull him along to the hall, he didn't put on anything warm. They were already outside and a good distance from the dorm building when he finally realized that Simmons was in just a t-shirt. This was starting to get ridiculous.

"You're shivering, moron," Grif said. "I thought you were supposed to wear a sweatshirt."

Simmons shrugged. "I forgot." But something in his voice made it seem like it wasn't an accident.

"It's not a short walk, you know," Grif reminded him. It was something he himself had a hard time forgetting, since he completely hated walking anywhere, especially if it wasn't close. "You're going to freeze your ass off." The taller of the two was already starting to shiver. That _idiot_.

"I'm fine," Simmons insisted.

He was such a shitty liar.

"Stop," Grif said with a sigh. He stopped walking, and unzipped his sweatshirt. He didn't mind the cold that much. At least, not as much as he knew Simmons did. "Take this, dipshit. And stop forgetting your sweatshirt, would you?"

Simmons grinned as he put on the bright orange hoodie, which was a good two sizes too big on him. He looked ridiculous, but at least he was warm. That was the important thing. He certainly seemed happy about it. His lopsided grin didn't fade in the slightest through the next two blocks that they walked. And honestly, he didn't look bad in orange. Not to Grif, at least.

That's when it hit Grif that maybe it wasn't the fact that he was warm that was making him so happy. He watched as Simmons' fingers curled around the frayed ends of the sleeves, as he tucked his hands into the pockets, as he soon withdrew them to play with the drawstrings. Every few steps, their shoulders would brush. There were a couple times where Simmons' hand brushed Grif's.

It wasn't that he was warm that was making him happy at all.

"You dick," Grif called out a few minutes later. "You forgot your sweatshirt on purpose. You just wanted to wear mine." Simmons' face turned to be nearly as red as his hair. Nailed it. "You know, you could've just asked to begin with. I would've given it to you. Dumb nerd."

"Oh," Simmons squeaked. Every single freckle on his cheeks popped out against the red tint his skin had taken on. It was kind of adorable.

Grif rolled his eyes, but smiled. "At least then I could've grabbed a second sweatshirt for myself, instead of having to freeze my ass off." He gently bumped his shoulder into Simmons' arm.

"Sorry," Simmons said. He didn't sound that sorry at all.

"Dick." Grif rose to his toes, pecked Simmons' cheek, and then headed into the pizza shop that they were having lunch at. He'd never admit that he didn't actually mind the cold - not if it meant he got to see Simmons in his sweatshirt.


End file.
